


No pasarán, Sherlock

by J_Brodsky



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pre and Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-23 18:32:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17085497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_Brodsky/pseuds/J_Brodsky
Summary: "This is the beginning of the New Big Game."Sherlock recklessly flashed his eyes and grinned. This Christmas promised to be interesting.





	No pasarán, Sherlock

**Author's Note:**

> This is a small excerpt from something bigger. Honestly, I don't know when the world will see this work, so here's just a little present from me.
> 
> Merry Christmas~

Sherlock stood by the window, watching the people, excited by the coming holiday, crowd on the roads, hurrying to buy up the last gifts and tangerines left on the shelves. The Night Before Christmas was rightly considered one of the noisiest nights of the year, and Sherlock was in complete agreement with it.

But not this time: the apartment on Baker Street was empty, and only the fireplace, which was diligently decorated by Mrs. Hudson, testified that they were still going to celebrate. The oppressive atmosphere of dusty silence contrasted sharply with the fussy merriment that reigns outside the window.

In the twilight of the room, Holmes took the violin and played a spontaneous tune for a while, but he got bored of it rather quickly, so he turned his gaze to the street again. The apartment plunged into silence.

"Last Christmas I gave you my heart..."

A hoarse voice with a noticeable accent suddenly echoed through the living room, sending chills from neck to tailbone.

Sherlock winced.

"Your vocal is killing me", he said irritably, not deigning to turn to the uninvited guest.

"I've incredibly missed you too, dear", there's a giggle somewhere on the right, the rustle of fabric - Moriarty took off his jacket, "I hope you prepared a Christmas present for me?"

"Didn't think of it somehow."

Reproaching clatter sounded right behind him. Holmes could clearly present like a consulting criminal shook his head contritely.

"Oh, do I really mean nothing to you?", Jim asked in the offended-child tone of voice, stroking Holmes's waist possessively and pulling to himself. Through the thin fabric of his bathrobe, Sherlock felt the heat coming from Jim's body. He snuggled closer and closed his eyes, giving up.

"No, you don't", he exhaled.

Moriarty grinned at his neck, folding his arms over his stomach. 

"But you haven't risen from the dead in order to receive my non-existent gift, right?", calmly clarified the detective. 

The answer gently tickles the back of his head:

"Right."

Moriarty put his chin on Holmes's shoulder and added melancholically, "My humble Christmas present for my beloved England. Fireworks show right at midnight ... Do you like fireworks?"

"Not really, but Mycroft would appreciate it", Sherlock grinned, not without pleasure presenting the stretched face of Mr. British Government. 

Of course, it was not about fireworks.

"I adore you", Jim laughed and left a wet kiss on his neck, "I need to go. But soon we'll meet again."

He recoiled, removing his hands, and the detective reluctantly met the cold with his back.

"So you're coming back", he stated, bowing his head.

"No pasarán, Sherlock", Jim said confidently, already standing at the door. Looking at the curly head, he smiled and announced:

"This is the beginning of the New Big Game."

When the consulting criminal left the apartment, Holmes turned away from the window and noticed the jacket, casually folded on the back of his chair. Straightening it immediately, he pulled a small card out of his breast pocket. There was a little poem:

"Christmas's gladly expected by children:  
Under the bridge little present is hidden.  
The gift's pretty simple, but the bridge is a riddle.  
So track the Fearless Scott down, forget about peace  
And try to find out, which is."

Sherlock recklessly flashed his eyes and grinned. This Christmas promised to be interesting.

**Author's Note:**

> How do you think where did Moriarty hide the "fireworks"?))


End file.
